Cologne Problems
I’ve been on a constant search for a scent that I can call my own. I’ve always thought it would be cool if people could identify me by a certain smell, but apart from my own unique brand of B.O., I haven’t been able to find one.
At the age of seven or so, my folks bought my brother and I tiny bottles of Brut aftershave, which we wore to church - very sophisticated. (There should be a cologne market for kids under the age of twelve, these products could have names like Lil’ Lothario, Playdate, or After-School Special. This is an underserved demographic advertisers should look into). To this day, if I am walking past the aftershave lotions at Target, I’ll twist open a bottle of Brut, inhale, and it’s 1975 again. This is what I am looking for - a scent that I can tie to my life. It is a big commitment. Brut was good primer, but as I navigated through my teen years, I would need something more suave and potent.
Around the age of eighteen, I hedged my bets and went with two colognes - Cody Musk for school and Stetson for special occasions. These worked out pretty well, although they did not net me the quantity of fine ladies I had anticipated. From there, I moved on to Royal Copenhagen, which closed out my dime store cologne era. I stuck with this one for way too long. It was only after I got married that I decided I needed a serious department store scent. It took a while, finally settling on Vera Wang for Men, which I wore for many, many years. My kids used to love the smell because it meant we were all going to a party or out to dinner. One day I said to my wife, “I love the smell of this stuff, I’ll probably wear it until I die.” To which she replied, “I actually don’t care for it.” Shit.
The search was on again and for the next two years, I sampled and sprayed at every Marshall Field and Nordstrom’s glass-enclosed cologne counter looking for the perfect aroma. I finally landed on CK One, I like it - don’t love it and my wife doesn’t seem to mind it. It will do for now.
Look, I don’t want embalming fluid to be my next scent, this quest must continue. I’ve encountered men whose cologne I’ve liked, yet I refuse to ask them what they are wearing. It seems to approach some kind of dude etiquette line that I don’t want to breach. Oh well, I go without cologne most of the time anyway, with only the sweet smell of the occasional dryer sheet hiding out toward the bottom of my pant leg.
I’ve thought about going back to the Vera Wang a few times. It would feel wrong I’m sure, like wearing a memory. Enough time has passed that the scent is now part of our history and I don’t want to lose the feelings that it conjures. I want all of the fun times during that era to remain in the bottle on my dresser, just like I know that if I breathe deep the scent of my childhood Brut every time I go shopping, eventually it will only remind me of the aftershave aisle at our local Target.
